


Can You Keep Me Close, Can You Love Me Most

by Foxen, novaed (orphan_account)



Series: Cheirophilia [6]
Category: The Mandalorian (Lady Irinia AU), The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Autistic Character, Communication, Consent, Developing Relationship, Dissociation, Explicit Consent, Hand Kink, Hands, Holding Hands, Insecurities, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Panic Attack, Relationship Negotiation, Self-Indulgent, Sensory Overload, They ARE making progress i swear, Touching, holy heck so much hand holding, the Awkardness Continues, touch starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-22 20:56:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23133628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxen/pseuds/Foxen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/novaed
Summary: Corin lingers for a moment. His hands are warm and gentle and Din thinks,kriff, I want this.The thought in itself isn't a complete shock, but the clarity and force at which it comes to him, is. He wantsthis. He’s always liked Corin’s hands -- their fine lines and rough edges and elegant motions are hard to ignore -- but he never considered how much he wanted to be able to touch and hold them. But he realizes that since their time on Cavao, the idea has been steadily growing in the back of his mind. Now, it overwhelms himNavigating a new relationship is hard. Especially when neither person involved knows what they're doing.
Relationships: Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret)/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: Cheirophilia [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1575679
Comments: 32
Kudos: 176





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *Facepalm* 
> 
> This was supposed to be a TLC. Which means it was supposed to be under 5k. 
> 
> It's twice that. And we have no idea how aldkfj
> 
> So, because it's so long, we've integrated it into the main series. Instead of 5 main parts, we now have 6. This one is now part 4.  
> (I say 5/6, but really, those are just the ones that have actual outlines and not just a few ideas written down alkdjf)
> 
> Chapter one is posted today because last week was hell for so many and I have a feeling it's only going to get worse from here on out for a while. Chapter two will be posted in a week, unless something extra shitty happens between now and then and we decide we need to supply our corner of the fandom with some more much needed fluff sooner than intended.
> 
> We hope you enjoy this one! It's a bit of an emotional roller coaster again so please heed the tags.
> 
> ~Fox
> 
> *puts hands together*  
> *sighs big*
> 
> what fox said?
> 
> grumbles in 'tlcs arent supposed to be this long what did we DO'
> 
> pls enjoy we beg u
> 
> \- Nova <3

He can feel a set of eyes on his back.

Din turns around slowly, looking for the source of the stare. He looks down, eyebrows raised - one nearly up into his hairline - and catches sight of the Child. His big, earnest eyes are gazing up at him, his ears perked up in curiosity. The sog is resting her head on the kid’s shoulder, her tentacles curling gently around the front of his neck. She’s also looking up at Din, though she doesn’t seem to share the Child’s wide-eyed curiosity. 

Din stares back, frozen in place. The kid’s unmoving gaze is a bit...unnerving; he’s not sure what to do with his open adoration. Slightly uncomfortable, he makes himself break eye contact with the kid and looks around for Corin.

He finds him sitting on what passes for their couch, eyes fixed on the datapad in his hands and seemingly unconcerned with Din’s lack of helmet.

Din begins to relax a little, relieved to know that all eyes aren’t actually on him. He looks back at the Child and sog. Gi’ika has gotten bored with staring up at him and is now pawing at the Child’s face with her tentacles to get his attention back. He smirks as it works like a charm, the kid spinning awkwardly around to face the sog. He ends up twirling around too far and topples to the ground before rolling himself back up to his feet with a sharp chirp. Gi'ika crouches, tail wagging, and paws at the kid before turning and scampering away. The Child follows in a wobbly run, nearly tumbling over again in his haste to catch up with the pup.

With the Child’s attention no longer focused on himself, Din lets out a long, shaky sigh and presses a gloved hand to his face. His heart is racing and he feels distinctly uncomfortable, like his skin is crawling. He loves the kid, but, in the long run, he’s not sure how he’s going to be able to handle his adoration and glee whenever he sees him without his helmet on.

He blinks. The thought hits him like a blurrg kick to the gut.

_ The long run  _ . 

“Din?”

He jerks his eyes back up when he hears Corin’s voice, worried his panic isn’t as contained as he hopes it is. But Corin just hands the datapad to him, a thoughtful look on his face as he watches the kid playing with Gi'ika. Din takes it with furrowed brows and nearly flinches when their hands touch briefly during the exchange. He’s still not used to the sensation of another’s skin brushing his own, even briefly. Swallowing, he flips the datapad around to see it better. 

He quickly notices that Corin has made a list of the supplies they still need. Cavao had treated them well in terms of restocking, but they hadn’t been able to get everything they needed. Especially with another mouth to feed.

His eyes run over the list and he nods as he hands it back over. “It looks good.”

Corin nods as he turns to meet his eyes. “You sure there isn't anything you need? I don't want us to forget anything.”

Din purses his lips thoughtfully before considering the fabric from Sorgan in the other room, still shoved away in the crate. “More fabric would be good. I'm running low.”

Corin perks up as if he’s just remembering something and he lifts up a finger as he turns off the datapad and sets it down. He walks back to where they’d set their supply bags when they'd first left Cavao - Din supposes they should probably put everything away soon. Corin rummages through his bag for a moment, mumbling under his breath; just as Din is about to ask if he needs help, he stands back up holding something with both arms. A grin spreads across his face as he approaches Din. 

Corin holds out the small bundle of a few different types of fabric. Din’s eyes widen as he takes in the different textures and colors. He reaches out to draw his fingers along the top of the pile, entranced by the buttery soft feel of it. 

Glancing up at Corin, he asks, “Where...where did you get this?”

“Zeth, your client on Cavao. You had mentioned at the crash site that she said anything we might have salvaged from the other broken crates was free to take. I saw those, thought you would like them, so I grabbed 'em.”

Din lets the comment about Zeth being only _ his  _ client and not  _ theirs  _ slide for now and thinks back to the time before the ice broke. He cocks his head, “Why don’t I remember you grabbing them?”

“I didn’t have the extra hands to hold them, so I shoved the pile in the  _ birikad  _ with the kid.” He gives a shrug before hesitating, his expression going uncertain. “You like them?”

Din blinks. “What? Yes! Of course I do. I’m just...surprised, is all. I’ve never worked with fabric like this, so thank you.”

Corin grins at him again and Din feels his heart begin to race once more. He averts his gaze back to the fabric, uncomfortable in a way he isn't used to. It isn't a  _ bad  _ feeling, per se, just, well, uncomfortable. Intense. He traces his finger over the fabric once more. 

_ Is this one a fabric or is it more of a leather? _

"Here," Corin says, startling Din from his thoughts once more despite his lowered voice. "They’re yours. You can take them.” He’s looking at him questioningly and Din wonders what expressions have been crossing his face; he has a sudden need to put his helmet on again, to withdraw for a while. Instead, he swallows down his growing anxiety and holds his hands out for the fabric. 

Corin hands the bundle over and their hands brush during the transfer. Din doesn’t startle this time and Corin lingers for a moment. His hands are warm and gentle and Din thinks,  _ kriff, I want this. _

The thought in itself isn't a complete shock, but the clarity and force at which it comes to him, is. As Corin pulls his hands away and goes about his business, Din’s thoughts race. He wants  _ this  _ . He’s always liked Corin’s hands -- their fine lines and rough edges and elegant motions are hard to ignore -- but he never considered how much he wanted to be able to touch and hold them. He’s never thought about how much he’s  _ always  _ desired this, because it never occurred to him that he would, or even  _ could  _ , have it one day. It wasn’t something he’d thought about much, but he realizes that since their time on Cavao, the idea has been steadily growing in the back of his mind. Now, it overwhelms him. 

His thoughts stutter to a stop.  _ How do I ask for such a thing?  _ He has no idea how to even bring it up to Corin and feels flustered at the mere thought. He can only hope that Corin will catch on somehow. 

The question winds its way through his thoughts as he moves the fabrics to their room. Running a hand over the stack one more time, he smiles helplessly, touched that Corin had thought to grab the fabrics for him. 

He thinks a lot about touch as the day moves on leisurely. He’s still transfixed on the idea of being able to touch Corin freely knowing he wouldn’t be brushed off. He starts working on supper, using the ingredients they have on hand to make something quick and easy. On the side, he grabs the sog food Susdavi had supplied them and mixes something up for Gi’ika, adding a few of their own supplies to give her a little variety. It’s relaxing and Din is more than content to let his thoughts wander through various possibilities.

Dinner quickly becomes an exercise in patience and self control, however, after he sets the finished dishes down at the table. 

Kriff, he had thought the first meal on Gaiwei was bad. He’s wishing traditional Mandalorian cooking involved less finger foods as he watches Corin eat. 

Corin picks up a morsel of the food and pops it in his mouth, humming appreciatively at the flavors. He grabs another, swiping it through the sauce to coat it generously before biting into it. The bit of food crumbles slightly and his eyes widen as he hastily pops the rest of the bite into his mouth so as to not lose any of it. After swallowing, he notices sauce dripping down his forearm and he quickly licks it up with a dart of his tongue. 

Corin continues to eat that way, sucking on the pads of his fingers and licking the corners of his lips between each morsel. Din doesn’t remember him being so... _ attentive  _ over his hands, but then again, he had been trying his damnedest to politely look away the first time in an attempt at pretending it wasn’t happening. The helmet had helped then, and he regrets that he had decided to leave it off this time so they could eat together, as he can barely look away now. 

Corin rubs his lips together as he swallows a bite and notices Din staring distractedly. His hands freeze near his lips. “What?”

Din blinks, unsure how to get out of the awkward position he had let himself fall into. “Uh. I just...zoned out. Sorry.”

Corin accepts his answer pretty easily, for which Din is grateful for. He continues to struggle with not staring, forgetting that his gaze isn’t hidden behind his helmet. 

Corin doesn’t bring it up again and only gestures towards Din’s own plate, “You going to eat?”

Din looks down at his food to find that he’s only taken a few bites compared to the other three, who had all been scarfing down their own meals. He flushes slightly. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles self consciously. 

He hasn’t gotten used to eating around others yet and he finds it uncomfortable and awkward. But no one pays him any attention as he scoops up a bite of his own food and pops it into his mouth, much more graceful and tidy than Corin has been. As he eats, he’s able to relax more and more until he feels content and at ease.

Gi’ika eagerly finishes her bowl before anyone else and comes sniffing at Din’s. He looks at her and she returns his gaze with wide eyes, her tentacles curling inward and giving her a pleading expression. He sighs, giving her a piece of meat from his plate. “That’s all you’re getting,” he says sternly.

She scarfs it down immediately, tail wagging, and Din can see Corin fight a smile in his peripheral vision. He can barely contain an eyeroll, only a little embarrassed that he had been caught feeding the Pup scraps. 

He manages to eat a decent portion of his food before a thought occurs to him. He pauses for a moment and asks, “Hey, um. Would you...would you like to do the nav chart for this leg of the trip?”

Corin blinks at the question as he finishes his meal, his eyes growing wide as comprehension sinks in. “You...wait, really? You’d let me?”

Din cocks his head, brows furrowed slightly as he says, “Well, yeah. You asked me before, remember?”

“Oh no, I do. I just...didn’t know if you would actually, you know, let me.” 

The last part of the statement is said in a mumble and Din wonders why Corin thinks he’s still just a guest on the ship. He wishes he knew how to show him he’s  _ so  _ much more as he says, “I should’ve said something sooner, but you’re free to. If it’s something you want to do, that is.”

Corin perks up, standing up with his plate and picking up Gi’ika’s polished off one as well, “No, I want to! I’ll get right to it!” He sets the dishes on the counter before bounding up the ladder. 

Din watches him go with a shake of his head as he gets up to wipe the Child’s face clean. After setting the kid on the floor, he goes about cleaning the dishes. He’s lost in thought while drying one of the pans he had used when the Child toddles in again, grinning, before hiding behind his legs. Din looks down at him, an eyebrow raised, as the kid grabs at his pants and giggles. Gi’ika comes tearing in a moment later, tail wagging excitedly, and Din sighs as he realizes he’s been caught up in the middle of a game of hide and seek. 

Setting the pot and rag down, he steps swiftly to the side, exposing the Child. He squeals and Gigi yips excitedly, running up and covering the kid’s face with her tentacles in a sog kiss. Din grimaces, but doesn’t rescue the Child, as he seems perfectly content being mauled by the pup.

Realizing they’re too wound up for this time of evening, Din scans the quarters for one of their toys. Spotting the steel ball he had given the kid months ago, he grabs it and holds it out to the pair. Both stop what they’re doing, staring at the shiny object in his hand. 

Wagging it back and forth he asks, “Do you want to play with the ball?” The Child immediately parts from Gigi and shuffles over to him, hands outstretched and cooing. Din smiles and settles on the floor with a grunt. 

Spreading his legs into a V-shape, he tells the kid, “Sit like this.” The Child plops down right where he’s standing and shuffles for a moment, his loose robe covering his feet. Softly, Din pushes the ball across the floor to the kid, who watches with wide, enraptured eyes. Gigi watches from the side, her head following the path of the ball. Once it hits the kid’s feet, he claps his hands and looks up at Din.

“Roll it back,” Din says, miming the motion. The Child sits forward and nudges the ball, which rolls slowly back to Din. “Good. A little harder next time,” he says, reaching for the ball and pushing it back gently. 

The Child coos and slaps a hand on the ball. He pats it before giving it a push back towards Din. 

“Better!” They push the ball back and forth, Gigi hopping up and down in the same direction the ball rolls in. Eventually, Gi’ika wears herself out and lays down, head on her paws, one brow raising and then the other as the ball rolls in front of her. After a few dozen passes, the kid lets out a yawn and Din sighs in relief, glad the post-dinner slump has finally hit. Grabbing the ball and then the kid, Din moves towards the Child’s bedchamber.

“Come on, Gi’ika. Sleep time.” The Pup huffs and gets up from her place on the floor to trot over to him. He gently places the already dozing Child amongst his nest of blankets and Gigi scrambles up and curls up close to the kid with a soft sigh.

After placing a blanket over them and closing the door, it occurs to Din that he hasn’t heard from Corin since he had gone up to the flight deck. Worrying his bottom lip, Din grabs a steel cup and fills it with water before making his way up the ladder singlehandedly. 

Quietly, he notes that Corin is utterly absorbed by the information on the screen. Not wanting to disturb him, Din sets the cup down near his elbow. Curious, he places his hand on Corin’s shoulder and leans into his space to see what path he had been charting for them.

Corin’s reaction is immediate.

He simultaneously pulls forward and away from Din, drawing his shoulders up to his ears in a defensive motion. He freezes there and Din reels his hand back, unsure what he had done. 

He waits for a moment for Corin to turn around or say something, but he doesn’t. Apprehension sets in Din’s chest the longer Corin remains silent. Quietly, Din asks, “Corin? Are you okay?” When the only response he gets is a slight lowering of his shoulders, Din shifts around so he can actually see Corin’s face.

He’s staring straight ahead, eyes wide and unseeing. 

Din swallows, concern growing. Distantly, he remembers the last time he had seen Corin look like this; it had been after the fight where he had taken out half a dozen bandits in a blind fury and the only thing that had snapped him out of it was the coo of the Child.

But the Child is sleeping now. It’s just him.

_ Should I touch him? Would that make it worse?  _ Din doesn’t know. Not knowing what else to do, he says, “Hey...I’m sorry, I should’ve announced myself when I came up to see how you’re doing.” He grimaces. “I was quiet because I didn’t want to startle you…”

He trails off when he notices Corin blink once, twice. His eyes are still blank, however, and he shakes his head. His mouth starts moving and it takes Din a moment to realize he’s mumbling to himself.

“Get over yourself...what’s your  _ problem  _ ...my fault why’s he comforting me I don’t deserve --  _ stupid-”  _ Din’s chest aches at the words tumbling from Corin’s lips and he decides he has to do something. He can’t keep watching Corin like this.

“Corin,” he says, louder than before, but not sharp or harsh. He reaches out, still unsure if touching is the right thing to do, but not knowing what other options he has to get Corin to come out of it. Gently, he places his hand on Corin’s where it had slipped from the controls. He tangles their fingers together and gives them a slight squeeze. “Hey, come back to me.” 

Corin blinks a few more times, his fingers grasping at Din’s. When his eyes focus once more, he takes in Din kneeling in front of him and his eyes go wide. His mouth drops open and he shakes his head one more time.

“You with me?” Din asks, squeezing his fingers again.

He considers the question, his shoulders relaxing a little, but his lower lip wobbles and Din definitely doesn’t know what else he can do. Perplexed, he withdraws his hand to give Corin as much space as possible now that he is aware of his surroundings again. 

“Kriff, I’m...I’m sorry. You just startled me a lot...it’s n-not your fault.” The words come fast and breathy. Din knows there is more to the incident, but Corin has turned away from him to stare out the front window. His hands are clasped in his lap, fingers laced together and thumbs rubbing back and forth.

Din doesn’t push him on it, knowing all too well that such a thing couldn’t be pulled from someone. It had to be given. Instead, he shifts back up and grabs the cup that he came in with. He hands it to Corin, who takes it and stares at it for a moment, not saying anything. Din stands there awkwardly, not sure what to do now, but unwilling to leave Corin alone for the moment.

Clearing his throat, he asks, “Would you like some guidance?”

Corin blinks before turning to consider the nav chart. He takes an absent sip from the cup before sighing. “Yeah, I think I need it. I can’t decide which path is better to take right here,” he points as he takes another sip, visibly trying to relax, “I don’t see anything wrong with either of them and it feels like a trick.”

“A trick?”

He makes a face as he tries to explain the word. “Like...a bad feeling? Maybe not bad, but...uneasy?” Din notices the way he avoids using his usual phrase, ‘bad luck,’ but doesn’t comment.

Instead, he asks, “Well, which one feels like a trick?” He sits down next to him, leaning close to see properly but conscious of where he places his limbs to keep from touching him. Corin taps on the right hand planet and pulls up its information. Din reads through the notes and hums. “Hm...unnamed water planet, but…”

“But?”

Din sighs, furrowing his brow as he looks again. “But nothing. The system isn’t pulling up anymore data and doesn’t indicate if we can pass it safely. I don’t like the lack of information... Your gut is right. Let’s use the other planet as a guide.” He eyes the planet, an idea forming as he notes just where it’s located in the quadrant. 

Corin relaxes a little more at his response, a small smile taking over his lips as he leans forward to tap the route into the system. 

The light from the panels and screen cast stark shadows across Corin’s face and Din’s taken aback for a moment.

_ His freckles are dark today  _ , he thinks, eyes flitting from the freckles scattering his cheeks and nose to the light crows feet at the corners of his eyes. The desire to  _ touch  _ returns full force and he takes a deep breath.

He blinks a few times to shake himself out of it, but a small smile lingers on his lips. Clearing his throat, he asks, as casually as he is able, “Alright, want me to help you with the rest so we can head to bed?” 

Corin perks up and nods, shifting over to make some space for Din. Din slides in next to him, secretly pleased to share the small space with Corin. Their shoulders and hips brush more often than not and it’s distracting for Din at first, but the sensation eventually becomes a soothing background noise. They finish the route before the hour ends and Corin exhales like a weight has been lifted from his chest. He drinks the rest of the water Din had given him and leans back in the seat, head tilted back. He looks over at Din, a soft smile on his face.

“Thanks,” he says softly, “for letting me --  _ trusting  _ me -- to plot a route.”

“I always trust you,” Din responds simply, confused as to how this is still something Corin struggles with. The ex-snow trooper opens his mouth before closing it again without responding. He turns his head away and licks at his lips and biting the bottom one. Din decides to give him a moment and takes the water cup back before patting Corin’s thigh and getting up to go back down the ladder.

Corin follows him down shortly after, yawning widely and stretching his arms over his head; Din tactfully avoids looking at the stretch of skin revealed when the hem of his shirt rides up and instead focuses overly hard on rinsing the cup and setting it to dry.

They find the kid and Gi’ika dead asleep in their bed, both having kicked the blanket off at some point. Din clears his throat before Corin can move towards them. “I can take care of them. You just head to bed, okay?”

Corin pauses for a moment before pulling away with a nod. “Alright. I’ll see you when you’re done, though?”

“Of course.”

Din watches him go for a moment and then shifts his gaze back to the little ones. He picks up the toys that are scattered around their bed and sets them aside before spreading the blanket over the Child and Pup once more. Gi’ika doesn’t even move when he tucks it around them, thoroughly knocked out. Knowing that they both sleep better in complete darkness, he slides their door shut. 

He makes his way to the small room he shares with Corin, yawning as he goes. When he enters, he blinks a few times at the way Corin is already comfortably splayed out on the bed, his long limbs sprawled haphazardly; there’s just enough space for Din to slide into next to him after taking off his heavy boots and setting them by the wall. 

Before he can lay down, however, Corin sits up and crosses his legs. About to ask Corin what he needs, Din is taken by surprise when Corin reaches out and places gentle touches along his arm, his long fingers trailing down his forearm until they reach bare hands. His gaze is lowered, eyes heavy-lidded with sleep and he opens his mouth as if he’s about to speak. No words come, however, and instead he brings Din’s hands up to his lips and places a gentle kiss against his knuckles. 

Din freezes slightly before he exhales a long shuddering breath, squeezing his eyes shut. Corin hasn’t done something like  _ this  _ since Cavao when he was still delirious with cold. 

Distinctly, he can hear Corin whisper, “Is this still okay?”

Din swallows thickly before he nods, realizing belatedly as he reopens his eyes that Corin isn’t looking at him.

“Din?” Corin’s voice is soft and careful as he repeats, “Is this okay?” He glances up at Din then, eyes moving over his face before settling back on their hands. 

Din realizes that Corin is purposefully avoiding eye contact to give him the space he needs. That alone makes Din relax, knowing that Corin would do that for him, that he even knew it was something Din might need. 

He manages to grasp back at Corin’s hands and whispers, “ _ Yes.  _ ” His voice cracks slightly with emotion, but he doesn’t care because in the dark of the ship he can see Corin grin softly, crookedly. 

Corin returns to focusing on Din’s hands, his calloused fingers gently rubbing along protruding veins and tendons.

Din puzzles over how easygoing Corin is here, all gentle and languid and thinks back to just how poorly Corin had reacted to his touch and proximity earlier, how he had startled and zoned out. It’s a perplexing difference, one that he files away to pursue at a later time. For now, he lets the thoughts go as he finds himself soothed by Corin’s touch and the way his hands feel against his. 

They stay like this for a while, Corin tracing Din’s hands and their visible veins and wrinkles. Din’s hands start to shake involuntarily as he becomes overstimulated by the sensations and the long day without both helmet and gloves on. He closes his eyes, vision blurry with fatigue. Corin kisses his fingertips with an air of finality before leaning back, pulling Din down with him. Din goes with him willingly, and they shift around until his head is resting on Corin’s warm chest. It makes his own fill with a warm ache and he finds that it’s easy to let sleep take over.

\---

Consciousness comes to him slowly and in increments; he’s warm and comfortable, unwilling to budge from his current position as he feels the bed shift. A weight lifts off his chest, taking its warmth with it. He squints his eyes open when the bed shifts again and grows cool. He shifts and closes his eyes, pulling the blankets up around his chin. 

Half awake now, he can hear Corin shuffling around the small space. Something is set down near his head and squints again. It takes a moment for the object to register as his helmet, the soft ambient lighting of the ship causing it to shine. His gloves sit next to it and he reaches out to touch the well worn fabric. A warm hand comes to rest on his and Din smiles softly as he turns his over and tangles his fingers with Corin’s. Corin lingers there for a moment, grasping back gently before pulling away to start the day.

Despite waking up content, as Din starts to wake up more fully, the warmth of the blankets becomes suffocating and he finds himself feeling on edge as he watches Corin move away. With a sigh, he closes his eyes.

He hasn't felt like this in a good long time and he'd forgotten how uncomfortable it is. He feels like his skin doesn't fit quite right or like the world is too close. His senses seem to be dialed up to ten: he can hear the Child babbling happily to something Corin tells him, and he startles violently when Gigi lets out a sharp yip; under that he hears the buzzing of the ship's electronics, the movement of fluids in the pipes, the creak of shifting metal; he can tell by smell that it's time to do a load of laundry and that something in the kitchen is going bad; the lights are too bright and his skin is crawling and his heart is racing and---

He sits up and shoves his helmet on and the world instantly becomes muffled. He lets out another long sigh, closing his eyes. He adjusts the input controls to account for his current sensory sensitivity and it helps for the most part, but his skin still feels prickly. With a groan, he swings his legs over the bed and quickly gets dressed. Once he’s in full armor, his heart begins to slow and his breaths become easier. 

He scowls at his gloved hands and the beloved chest plate glinting in the ship’s lights. He’d been doing better about keeping his armor off when it was just him and Corin and the kid on the ship, but just the thought of taking it all off again sends his heart thudding. Frustrated, he resigns himself to keeping his armor on today, never having expected that one day he’d  _ want  _ to take it off in the first place.

He gazes around the small space, needing something to do but not wanting to subject his shipmates to his current bad mood. His eyes settle on the pile of fabric Corin had given him the night before and he hums to himself.

Wishing he could feel the texture, he shuffles through them until he finds a soft looking deep yellow fabric. He pulls it from the stack and unfolds it, taking in the dimensions critically. There wasn’t quite enough for a shirt but maybe…..

He looks up at the sound of squealing and pattering feet just in time to watch Gi’ika scamper past with the Child’s blanket held in her mouth, her eyes filled with mischief. The Child stumbles after her, arms reaching for the blanket, mouth stretched wide in a grin. He loses sight of them as they pass from his field of vision and he shakes his head. Corin is not far behind them, hands on his hips as he watches their play. 

He must sense Din looking because he turns from the young ones and gives him a smile, eyes questioning as he takes in his full armor with a quick up and down look over Din's body. Din holds his breath, but Corin doesn’t say anything, just turns back to the Child and Pup.

He yelps and dashes forward and Din can hear him lightly chastising the two. “No, stop it! You’ll tear the blanket. Let’s find you something else to play tug with, okay? No, don’t give me that look. Either of you!”

Din shakes his head, a fond smile coming to his lips, and moves out of the room, noting that Corin has the situation under control before moving over to one of the supply shelves and digging around for his sewing kit; he finds it shoved under a few guns and other supplies that he figures they should probably put away soon. Kit in hand, he takes it and the fabric to their small table and gets to work on a new blanket for the Child.

He gets lost to the steady motion of needle and thread, focused on making a neat and tidy hem. His body slowly relaxes and he lets out a long breath. 

Sometime later, a hand on his shoulder startles him out of his focus and he looks up at Corin, who had pulled his hand back at his light flinch.

“I brought you some water.” He holds up a metal cup and sets it on the table away from the fabric splayed across it. He crosses his arms, hands tucked under his armpits and looks over Din’s project. “What have you been working on so intently?” he asks.

Din opens his mouth to respond but no sound comes out and he sighs internally. This  _ also  _ hadn’t happened in a long time and he wonders what’s set this all off today. Irritated at himself now more than ever, he holds up his work in progress, showing Corin the hems and the embroidery stitching he had started on the body of the blanket. Corin looks at him for a moment, a question evident in the slants of his eyebrows. But he doesn’t say anything and instead turns to running his hands over the fabric. He doesn’t seem to mind Din’s lack of words, and Din feels another part of him relax at his easy acceptance.

“This is really nice!” Corin exclaims softly, trailing his finger over the stitching Din had made of the outline of a small ringed planet. “Is this for the kid?” He looks up and Din nods. 

Corin grins at him. “He’s going to love it.” He bites at his bottom lip for a second and Din’s grateful for his helmet because he can’t seem to draw his eyes away from the motion. He blinks when Corin speaks up again. “Let me know if you need anything, yeah? We’re about to go through…” he furrows his brow in thought for a moment before he sighs and shakes his head and continues, “through a system I can’t remember the name of. Figured one of us should be in the pilot’s chair in case something came up.” He shifts his gaze from Din and looks down at his hands still tracing the stitching. “Unless you’d rather do that?”

Din makes an effort to speak, needing Corin to understand that he can do whatever he wishes on the Razor Crest -- including navigation and flying. He swallows and his voice comes out rough from hours of disuse, “No, I have no problem with you doing that.” His words fail him after that and he hopes they’re enough for Corin. He moves his hand and lightly touches Corin's fingers, trying to offer assurance. 

Corin seems to get it and he smiles. “Well, you’ll know where to find me! I’ll take the kid and pup up with me so that you can keep working on this in peace.”

“Thank you,” Din says, softly. 

Corin removes his hand from under Din’s, squeezing Din’s lightly before moving away. He gets a few steps before he turns back.

“Don’t forget to drink that water!” Din waves him off and Corin chuckles as he goes in search of the Child and Gi’ika.

Din eyes the cup and sighs again before reaching up and taking his helmet off. He closes his eyes immediately and sucks in a breath at the flood of sensory input. He takes a deep breath, then another, and slowly opens his eyes. Grabbing at the cup with shaking hands, he drains the water quickly. With a frustrated huff, he puts the helmet back on again and glares at the cup as though it were its fault for his inability to remove his helmet now.

With a shake of his head, he gets back to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a quick note about Din's neurodiversity: his experiences here (and in earlier parts) are based largely on my own before I got my diagnosis. How my autism affects me is NOT universal, and therefore how it is portrayed here is just one of the many many ways it can be portrayed. His removal of his helmet, getting comfortable with that, is a literal unmasking. It's a removal of those barriers that have been up, knowingly or unknowingly, for his whole life and now they're being picked at and removed and it...it's overwhelming. Especially at first. But it's also liberating to have those masks down? At least for me it has been. Hence Din's frustrations at needing his 'masks' and also wanting them gone.
> 
> I have a lot of feelings about ND!Din and the whole helmet/masking thing. Hit me up at Spacefoxen on twitter or Dandynlion on tumblr if you want to yell with me about them aldjkf
> 
> ~Fox
> 
> Edit: -sneeks in- It's Nova's birthday. Comments would be EXTRA appreciated today ~_^


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. I hope everyone is holding up okay right now. Things are starting to feel entirely too surreal out in the wide world....I'm now on soft quarantine and attempting to learn upper level math and physics online without access to the tutors I desperately need. I'm _tired_ and these two boys (and Nova <3) have essentially become my life line right now. I don't know what else to do.
> 
> I'm not entirely sure how I feel about the final draft of this chapter but. It's soft and tender and I just hope you guys enjoy it and that it brings a smile to your faces at this time. 
> 
> Be safe and stay healthy.
> 
> <3/Fox
> 
> taps fingers together
> 
> fox and i are long distance but live in the same country, so it is...hard to process what’s been going on. cases are jumping into the triple digits where i live and places are closing down for a to-be determined time. I’m currently out of work, but luckily, I was already an online student so there’s no shift in my schedule there.
> 
> be safe guys and wash your hands good.
> 
> ~ Nova <3

Later, they finally get around to shelving their supplies from Cavao; it isn’t a lot but it’s enough to dedicate a few hours to as they reorganize the shelves. For the first time that day, Din felt  _ fine  _ . Stubbornly, he braves taking the gloves off, clenching his hands into fists as he gets used to the sensations again. Distractedly, he places the gloves on the counter and gets back to work. When he happens to glance over in their direction again, he finds one of the pair missing. He frowns before noticing Corin’s amused smile and hears a giggle and soft coo. He rolls his eyes, knowing that he’s not going to get that glove back for the time being.

Corin doesn’t say anything about him removing his gloves, but the small smile stays as he continues to unload their supplies. They touch briefly, gently, every chance Din gets, and Corin’s hands linger as they pass supplies back and forth. It starts to feel intentional, the way Corin keeps picking up the items that are obviously meant for Din’s section, and Din really doesn’t mind. It’s thrilling, these small touches on bare skin, and that inturn frustrates him. 

Frustrates him that he cannot go hours at a time before the itch under his skin becomes overwhelming and everything else is so loud. He wonders why it’s always different every time, that it’s never a consistent feeling. Sometimes he’s fine, other times just the thought of removing any of his armor sends him into a tailspin.

Finding himself fed up with his irritation, he bites down his nerves and removes his helmet, setting it on the topmost shelf where the kid couldn’t easily get to it. His ears don’t ring with every noise and the lights don’t feel blinding, so he wills the anxiety in his gut to settle. 

Corin doesn’t say anything about the helmet removal and doesn’t spare the helmet a second glance. He does stop the Child from trying to use his hand wavy thing on it, but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge the change. 

They finish unpacking and organizing and Din’s gut clenches again without anything to focus on. The anxious feeling returns in a rush and his fingers twitch uneasily. He holds in a sigh as he relents and puts his helmet back on, the hiss reassuring him. He reaches for his gloves, only to remember that Child had ran off with one of them. He looks around jerkily as he puts on the one glove, feeling his anxiety tick up as the seconds pass. 

He doesn’t notice when Corin leaves the room, but sags in relief when he sees him return with his glove in hand. As Corin silently passes him the glove, he recalls the way Corin smells, how warm his eyes are without the helmet to discolor them, and his countless freckles that aren’t done justice by the visor’s tech. Din finds he wants to touch him so  _ badly  _ , but he recalls the day before and swallows the feeling down. He can save it, and he can wait, for kriff’s sake. He puts the glove on and the air feels a little less constrictive. He sighs and his shoulders slump. Corin eyes him for a moment, eyes full of concern, but doesn’t comment. Instead, he shifts his attention to the Child.

Corin goes out into the living space and fills up a few cups of water, helping the kid with his own cup. Din knows that one is implied to be his whenever he’s ready to take it. He appreciates the gesture and it causes butterflies to flutter around his stomach. Swallowing down an emotion he can’t quite identify, he sits down on the couch and ignores the way it creaks. Gi’ika wanders over and lays down over his boots. He wonders how she could be even remotely comfortable and shakes his head.

Din finds himself staring at Corin again, unable to look away as he moves around the room, helping the kid get some toys out to play with and stay occupied. He zones out for a moment, focused on the cadence of Corin’s voice and the comfortingly familiar sounds of his ship.

Corin sits close to him and snaps him out of it, their sides nearly brushing together. He carefully takes Din’s gloved hands and runs his own over them. Their fingers thread together easily and Din squeezes instinctively. Corin smiles softly and rubs his thumbs into the palms of Din’s hands. 

_ This is easier than removing the helmet,  _ Din thinks. It’s less invasive and more soothing. He starts to doze off to the simple feeling and slouches bonelessly against Corin, head tilting back and resting on the man’s shoulder.

He wakes up to gentle nudges again and Corin telling him to get up and get into bed. Din grumbles something incoherent and he hears a huff in response followed by, “You’ll break your neck sitting like that. Or at most, wake up in a bad mood.”

Huffing in return, he goes to bury his face against Corin’s neck, only to be stopped by his own damn helmet. He gets up slowly, irritated, idly wondering why he  _ kept falling asleep.  _ He moves straight to the bed, indignantly ignoring the amusement plain on Corin’s face. 

Din removes his helmet without much thought, but opts to leave his gloves on again. He sits down on the bed, drowsy, and as soon as Corin joins him, he latches onto him like he’d wanted to before. He sleepily shoves his nose against Corin’s neck and sighs. Inhaling deeply, he feels the way Corin stiffens under him for a beat before he moves his hands up his back to scratch at the hairs on his neck. Din finds himself nearly asleep again when he feels the bed shift slightly.

He peeks over blearily to see Gi’ika as she leans her head back down and pulls the kid up by his robes onto the bed with them. The Child coos as he crawls up the bed, Gigi hopping up after him, and tucks himself against Corin. Gi’ika pushes up against Din’s legs and curls up into a small ball. The faint glow of her spots soothe him, and he doesn’t have the heart to complain or put them back in their own bed. He lets it slide, as does Corin by the way he clutches onto his shirt and his breathing slows.

\--

Waking up the next morning is a slow process that he’s surprisingly reluctant to pursue. He feels calm, his limbs heavy and relaxed. There’s a warm pressure on his chest that he blindly reaches for, realizing belatedly that it’s Gi’ika when his hands encounter her dorsal fins. He opens his eyes to find that Corin has already gotten out of the bed and there’s a pang in his chest that he identifies as disappointment. When he distinctly can hear him talking from the other room, the Child cooing in response to whatever he is saying, the feeling eases once more. 

He pets Gi'ika's smooth skin, her freckles glowing softly against his hand. He closes his eyes for a moment, soaking in the rare feeling of contentment and finds that he doesn’t want to get up. Eventually he sighs, knowing he should get moving regardless of how much he doesn't want to.

He pats Gigi twice, saying, “Come on, girl. Up we get.” She grumbles at him, her tentacles curling inward and her eyes narrowing. He raises an eyebrow at her and she huffs before slinking off of him, whining as she settles onto the bed. 

“Good girl,” he says, giving her one last pat as he sits up.

He quickly notices that Corin has left his helmet out for him once more. He runs his hands along the smooth metal, glad that he’d decided to leave his gloves on as he’d slept. He figures that having both his helmet and his gloves off at the same time all day had been too much. But he reminds himself that he’s learning and that it will get easier with time. It doesn’t make his current frustrations go away, but it gives him hope that it really wouldn't be a big deal in the future.

Putting his helmet on, he stretches after the latches hiss, groaning softly when his shoulders pop. Sighing, Din gets up and eyes the fabric he had placed near the foot of the bed with the nearly finished blanket. He picks up both the blanket and other bolts of fabric, deciding he would finish the one and start on something new that day.

Making his way out of the room, he chews at his lip in contemplation. It feels strange to not have his usual itch for something else to do, the need to  _ move  _ and keep moving. It’s beyond him why he has yet to go out of his way in search for another job or ten to line up. He realizes that he doesn’t  _ want  _ to find another job. He’s reluctant to let go of the little peace they’ve found, knowing it's fragile and won’t last forever. 

His desire to keep a hold of this new contentment doubles as he finds Corin on the floor by the couch with the kid in his lap. Din freezes where he is, careful not to make a sound as he leans against the doorframe. There is a datapad situated in front of the kid and he watches as Corin points at the screen to grab the kid’s attention. He’s talking softly enough that Din can’t pick up what he is saying, but the Child is listening attentively, ears perked up. When Corin points at something, the kid babbles, patting his little hands on the screen and looking up at Corin. Corin chuckles and Din smiles, shifting where he is and making a soft scraping sound as his armor rubs against the doorframe.

Corin startles slightly at the noise, surprised, but relaxes when he sees Din by the door. He grins up at him, the corners of his eyes creasing. A warmth fills Din's chest and he has the absurd feeling that he found his own personal sun when Corin entered his life. 

“Morning, Din.”

All he can do is nod in response, wondering how and when his life had started to feel so domestic and welcoming. It’s a feeling he doesn't think he can ever recall having, but it’s one he doesn’t want to lose.

Din sets the fabric on the table and watches them a while longer, fond and content, before begrudgingly getting a move on.

Removing his gloves isn’t as difficult as he thought it would be as he takes a spot on their shoddy couch. Clenching his hands into fists and unfurling them again, Din notes that it doesn’t feel weird to have them exposed. He briefly thinks about removing his helmet since removing the gloves hasn’t left him feeling off balance, but his gut clenches at the thought and he immediately decides against it. He doesn’t feel like crawling out of his skin like he had the day prior, but it still feels like  _ too much  _ . Though, what ‘it’ is, precisely, he can’t say. 

His skin is buzzing lightly and he’s too aware of everything in his surroundings, especially Corin sitting nearby. His attention keeps getting caught by the movement of his hands; the fact that he can’t stop staring at them unnerves him and he doesn’t want to be caught doing it again.

Placing the gloves on the table and picking up the fabric once more, he gets a thrill from the sensations that greet his bare hands. Opening up his little sewing kit, he prepares a needle and lays out the nearly complete blanket in front of him. He tries to focus on the task he sincerely wants to finish but Corin is  _ right  _ there. He’s still sitting with the Child and reading to him, gesticulating wildly. His hands are entrancing and Din can’t seem to pull his eyes away. 

Caught up in the elegant motions of his hands and fingers, Din is still looking when Corin turns to him. Corin stares at him for a moment, head tilted to the side in question as though he can see through Din’s visor to his face. A crooked smile stretches across his lips and Din tries to recover, attempting to refocus on the blanket, sure that his excuse of losing focus wouldn’t hold again. 

Corin says something quietly to the kid, who coos back, and then Din hears the patter of tiny feet move away. He freezes up slightly when he sees Corin walking towards him in his perhifery, but he can’t avoid looking at him forever so he looks up when Corin comes to a stop in front of him.

The man’s jaw is set in determination and his gaze doesn’t waver as he asks, “Is it okay for me to touch you?”

Din blinks at the question, a feeling of deja vu moving through him.

“It...yeah. It’s fine, always. I’d tell you if it wasn’t okay, Corin.”

Corin gives him a skeptical look, an eyebrow cocked upwards as if he doesn’t believe him.

Din adds, “I  _ will.  _ ” 

Corin huffs and seems satisfied enough with Din’s assurance. Din expects him to sit down near him, but he quickly realizes he’s wrong as Corin sits right next to him, their sides brushing from hip to shoulder, and leans his head on his shoulder. 

Din stills at this new position and Corin softly asks, “Still okay?”

Din exhales as he attempts to control his breathing and he manages a nod. “Yes.”

It’s all he can say at the moment, but it’s enough for Corin, who smiles widely and says, “Okay.” 

Corin settles against him, turning slightly to place his hand over Din’s chest. He rubs his fingers back and forth along the fabric, the gesture soothing and rhythmic. Din relaxes against him, a little disappointed that Corin isn’t playing with and touching his hands like before, but he finds he doesn’t mind this sensation either. He hadn’t realized how much tension had been building in him again until it slowly seeps out of him.

He tries to focus on the feeling of Corin leaning against him, his hand resting on his chest, but despite it only being late morning, his vision starts to blur and his mind comes to a dark, peaceful hum.

\--

Din wakes to a light touch to the shoulder and Corin’s gentle voice saying, “Wake up, Din...Time to make dinner. I tried to put it off, but the kid is getting a bit...out of control. Gigi’s helping him.”

Din forces his eyes open and blinks a few times to focus them. He finds the Child, grabbing at Corin’s pants with sharp tugs, Gi’ika at his side trying to nip at Corin’s ankles. Corin side steps to avoid the nips and reaches down to pry the kid’s clawed fingers from his pants. Despite his helmet shielding his expression, Din attempts to bite down his smile at the sight.

Corin rolls his eyes as if he knows anyway and hands him the datapad. “I found this recipe….We have the stuff for it, so I’d like to try it.”

Din skims over the recipe and nods. “Yeah, we can do that. Get started with the raw ingredients and I’ll join you--” he turns to the two young ones now tumbling over each other and pointedly continues, “--once I get these two to  _ calm down  _ .”

The Child giggles and Corin snorts in skepticism, but walks away before Din can retort. With an eye roll, Din reaches down to grab a hold of the Child as he tries to wobble after Corin into the kitchenette.

The Child squeals when Din scoops him up, his little arms flailing in the air. He gets a resounding whine for his effort as tiny hands try to push him away. Din nearly drops him when he kicks out while trying to squirm from his grasp, Gi'ika yipping at his feet, her eyes bright and intent upon her playmate.

“Knock it off, you little womp rat,” Din says with a shake of his head, trying to come off as stern and only sounding grudgingly fond. He shuffles the kid around in his arms until he’s nestled in the crook of his elbow. Spotting one of the kid’s toys, he grabs it off of the floor, petting Gi'ika as he does, and hands it to the Child. The kid immediately sticks the ball in his mouth and Din sighs. Shaking his head again, he makes his way over to Corin.

Corin is bent over the small counter, a sharp knife blade in his hand as he focuses intently upon the vegetables he is cutting up. Din smiles softly when he catches sight of the way Corin’s tongue is sticking out between his teeth; he wonders if Corin is even aware of his habit. It’s both utterly endearing and distracting and Din decides he’d rather Corin continue the habit than ask him about it and cause him to stop due to self-consciousness.

Unable to see what it is that Corin is cutting, Din moves closer. Placing his hand on the back of Corin’s neck with the intent of leaning around him to get a better look, he is unprepared for the way Corin lashes out.

He spins in place, perfectly balanced and muscles coiled, the knife flipped into a backhanded grip before it’s held against Din’s throat just under the rim of his helmet. Startled, Din immediately freezes in place. There’s a snarl on Corin’s handsome features and Din notes the blank expression in his eyes with some distress. It’s as though he isn’t even aware that it’s Din in front of him, like he’s seeing someone entirely different.

He’s about to speak when the Child coos softly, his ears drooping low and his fingers gripping tightly to Din’s forearm.

Corin blinks once, twice, his eyes slowly clearing before focusing on the two in front of him. He blinks one more time before his eyes go wide as he takes in the knife he is still holding to Din’s throat and the kid nestled in his elbow. The knife falls from his grip and clatters on the steel grating, causing Corin to flinch and draw away from Din quickly. His back hits the counter as he scrambles backwards and Din notes the shaking in his hands.

“Kriff...I--” Corin stutters harshly, running his hands through his hair. “I--  _ shit  _ . Din. I’m. I’m sorry, I--” he trails off and removes his hands from where they had laced together at the back of his neck. Shaking his head, he stares at them before shoving them into his pockets and darting around Din, his eyes averted.

Confused, Din watches him go, his heart still racing. He feels guilt settle low in his gut, like he had done something wrong, but he has no idea what it might have been. The Child coos again and Din tears his eyes from Corin’s retreating back to look at the kid. He’s reaching for Corin, his ears dipping even lower than before, his eyes wide and glassy.

“Shhh, kid.” Din gently pushes the Child’s hands down and the little one turns his questioning gaze up at him before clutching at his finger. Quietly, Din continues, “He...he needs some space for a moment, okay?” He sways slightly in an attempt at providing some comfort, though whether it is for his own benefit or the kid’s he can’t say. Regardless, the Child does little more than pout before settling down in Din’s arms once more.

With a sigh, Din leans down and picks up the fallen knife. He studies the glinting blade briefly before setting it on the countertop. Quickly, he scans the food Corin had placed on the counter to prep and puts away the perishable items so they didn’t spoil.

That done, he stares blankly for a second and bites his lip, debating. Should he check in on Corin now or give him more time? He taps his fingers on the counter and recalls Corin’s tendency to chastise himself for things beyond his control and how he is likely beating himself up over what was essentially a reflexive action. Decisively, Din turns and slowly makes his way out of the kitchen area and over to where Corin is now sitting on the Child’s bed, Gi’ika in his lap. He stops a few paces away, once again uncertain as he watches Corin absently stroke the sog’s back.

A thought occurs to him and it makes his blood run cold. He realizes that he’s made a mistake and has been operating under the assumption that because Corin had no problems touching him, he would also be fine with  _ Din  _ touching  _ him.  _ His thoughts race and he concludes that he hasn’t initiated much touch himself, that he’s only ever really touched Corin in a more-than-casual way after Corin has already initiated some form of physical contact. He thinks back on the few times he  _ had  _ initiated touch.

In both instances, he had guided Corin down to sleep at his side, essentially encouraging a greater amount of contact, but only after Corin had gotten into his bed in the first place. As his thoughts focus on those moments, however, he realizes that Corin had frozen up in some way even then. Every time. The guilt that had started to settle in his gut spreads up into his chest, causing his breath to come short. 

_ Have I been fucking up this entire time,  _ he thinks. Had he been pushing Corin in some way without realizing it? This is all new territory for him and he feels like he might be sick. 

“Corin?” Din asks, voice low and hesitant. He briefly wonders if he should remove his helmet, but decides against it, figuring that it’ll probably help the both of them if he doesn’t. Corin avoids his gaze and his heart aches, but the man hasn’t stiffened up or moved away. Din presses on, “Are...are you alright?”

That gets a reaction from Corin. He jerks his head up to stare at Din, eyes wide and red rimmed, tears tracking down his cheeks.

“What do you mean am  _ I  _ alright?” He shakes his head. “I should be asking  _ you  _ that! I drew a knife on you! And the Child! I could have h-” his voice cracks and he closes his eyes and swallows. “I could have seriously hurt either of you,” He continues, keeping his eyes firmly shut.

Din shakes his head firmly before responding, "But you didn't. And even if you had tried, I wouldn't have let you."

Eyes still closed, Corin turns his head away with a scoff. He is still petting Gi’ika with one hand but the other is clenching desperately to the fabric of his pants, his knuckles going white.

With a sigh, Din carefully sets the kid on the ground and gives him a gentle nudge in Corin's direction. The Child looks up at him, one ear tip twitching, before turning away and toddling over to Corin. Din watches as he topples into his lap next to Gi'ika and flails around for a second, trying to reorient himself. Once properly upright, he pats at Corin's chest a few times until the man looks down at him, expression tired and dull. 

The Child gazes back, then reaches up and pats his face with a soft coo, "Cooor?"

Corin's lips twitch upward ever so slightly and Din feels something in him relax. He swallows, choosing to stay where he’s at, and haltingly asks, “You...you obviously don’t have any problems touching  _ me  _ ...but. Are...are you okay with  _ me  _ touching  _ you?  _ ” Once he manages to get the question out, he feels his chest tighten in apprehension. He’s not entirely sure what he’ll do if Corin says no; respect his boundaries, obviously, but he doesn’t want this to be a one way thing. He wants to touch Corin as much as he wants Corin to touch him and to have one without the other would be torturous. 

Corin blinks up at him. “I….” he frowns, brows drawn together. “Yes?”

Din starts to shake his head, intending to tell him that a questioning yes is not, in fact, a yes at all, but Corin continues before he can get a word out.

“I mean. Yes! It's okay for you to touch me. I  _ want  _ you to touch me. I....” He averts his eyes again and rubs at the back of his neck. "I think it's when I don't know you're there. Or what you're doing? That I get..." he wobbles his head back and forth, obviously searching for the right words, “jumpy. I guess.”

Din nods, his chest easing in relief even as the guilt continues to churn in his stomach. He should have been following Corin’s lead the entire time and  _ asking  _ first, or at least paying better attention to his cues. He sighs before taking purposeful steps towards Corin, removing his gloves as he goes and making sure his footfalls are loud enough to alert him of his approach. He drops the gloves in the Child’s bed and Corin looks from them up to him. Din holds his bare hand out, biting his lip.

"Come on," he says and Corin raises an eyebrow at him questioningly before shuffling the Child and Gi'ika from his lap and into their bed. He reaches up and takes his hand, letting Din pull him from the pile of bedding. Not letting go of his hand, Din leads him to their own bed.

Corin shakes his head in a weak protest. “I need to finish making dinner…” 

“It’s fine. Dinner can wait for a little longer. I put away anything that might spoil,” Din assures him. But then he pauses, remembering his past assumptions. “Unless you don’t want to…?” he trails off, not even sure what it is he’s asking Corin to do in the first place.

But Corin shakes his head, seeming to understand what Din is trying to say. “No, I do. I just figured you and the Child would be hungry…”

Din shakes his head again and releases Corin's hand. He moves to sit on the bed before deliberately taking off his helmet and setting it aside. Nervously, he runs his hand through his hair before looking up at Corin, who is biting at his lip, looking uncertain. Din holds his hand out again. “You can get to it later,” he says. He holds his breath and waits.

Corin takes his hand and Din draws him down to sit across from him on the bed. He doesn’t let go of his hand as he asks, “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” Corin whispers.

Din swallows nervously, unable to look at Corin now that they are level with each other. He suspects that Corin is probably having a hard time looking at him, too, so he simply stays focused on their hands and tries to keep his breaths steady.

He runs his fingers over the back of Corin’s hands, tracing along the prominent tendons and down his long fingers. Turning his hands over, he rubs his thumbs into his palms and Corin lets out a long sigh. Din nearly looks up at him then, but catches himself just in time. He refocuses on his task, running his fingers from the center of Corin’s palm out to his fingertips before rubbing at each long finger. 

Having massaged both palms and all of his fingers, Din studies their hands by placing them together, palm to palm. He notes how his own hands are boxy and square, his fingers broad. They’re soft from near constant containment within his gloves, at least when compared to Corin’s. Corin has long fingers and knobby knuckles, the backs of his hands are scattered with scars, his palms and fingers littered with heavy calluses. His right middle finger is slightly crooked, as though it had been broken at one point and hadn’t healed properly; all of his nails and cuticles show signs of nervous biting.

Din wants to do what Corin had done to him two days previous and kiss his knuckles and palms and fingertips. He wants to treat him with gentleness and lavish him with soft touches. But he’s not sure how Corin would handle it right then after having been so startled earlier. He supposes he could ask him if it was alright, but he worries about Corin saying yes just because it was something that he wanted to do, not because he was genuinely okay with it himself. So he doesn’t ask, figuring that what they are doing right then is perfectly good, too.

Eventually, Corin sighs and shifts, withdrawing his hands from Din’s. Din freezes for a brief second before relaxing once more as Corin takes his hands back and holds them in his own. They don’t talk. Instead, they just trace paths over each other’s hands, occasionally tangling their fingers together playfully. 

Din only sneaks the sporadic glance up at Corin’s face, forgetting that his helmet isn't on to shield his gaze. His chest aches at the tremulous and hopeful expression on Corin’s face, the way his eyes follow Din’s hands hungrily. He decides then that he’s going to help Corin get used to touch, especially since he said it is something he wants. He figures, guiltily, that he could probably increase the frequency in which he extends casual gestures to the other man, too. Corin’s been helping him to adjust to extended time without his helmet and gloves on; the least he can do is help Corin with this. 

Their bubble of calm focus pops when they hear a soft, curious coo. Both Din and Corin look over in the direction of the sound, neither dropping the other's hands. The Child and Gi'ika are looking at them from their own bed. Gi'ika's tail is wagging slowly and the kid has his head tilted to the side, ears perked forward.

Corin chuckles softly and looks at Din. "I suppose we should... probably get to work on dinner before the two womp rats find their own," he says, the corner of his mouth quirking up. Din gets momentarily distracted by the strong urge to kiss the upward curve of Corin's lips and therefore startles slightly when Corin untangles their fingers and moves away.

"You coming?" Corin asks. Din blinks a few times and looks up at him, taking in his outstretched hand and hopeful expression.

Din smiles back and takes his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering why the hell Din is falling asleep all the time in this fic, it's because not only is masking exhausting, but so is unmasking. Especially when you're not used to it. At least, that's how it was for me. Now that I don't mask as much and I'm more used to NOT masking, im not sleeping nearly as much as I used to. Din will likely experience something similar ;)
> 
> Next part will be another TLC! And keep an eye out for more artwork in the next few days...updates might start getting sporadic as the semester winds down and we figure out our new normals, but we'll try our best at providing new content when we can.
> 
> ~Fox


End file.
